The Shadows and the Roses
by YuukiFairy
Summary: Thrown together on a desperate flight, will Beth and Daryl survive on their own? In a world shadowed by death and violence will they be able to overcome their own personal fears and find that something blooms in the darkness in spite of it all? Rated M for sexual content.
1. Chapter 1

_**Beth and Daryl:**_

_**The Shadows and the Roses**_

_**Chapter**__** 1**_

Still breathing hard, Beth exhaled an audible stream of air. With a trembling hand she pushed back a pale lock of sweat-dampened hair and sat down numbly, staring blindly out the window at a sunset she didn't see. Her fingers tightened around the bloody knife still in her hand, convulsively squeezing the handle as she tried to get her tumultuous feelings under control. But it wasn't easy to turn things off just like that.

That had been close. Far too close. They'd run a gauntlet of walkers more vicious and more aggressive than any she had ever seen. They'd grabbed her. They'd pushed her down into the dirt, but thankfully she hadn't been bitten or scratched. Though why that mattered she didn't know. Not if, as Rick had told them, they were already infected. Maybe he'd been wrong about that. He'd been wrong about a lot of things.

They were safe at the moment, finally, but her body refused to obey her repeated orders to relax. She was still on high alert, watching for any sign of further attacks, while Daryl-

Daryl was already back to being Mr. Lone Wolf with his frankly-my-dear-I-never-did-give-a-damn attitude. Which could be maddening at times. Like now.

As she watched him set his crossbow against the wall, her eyes raked him slowly. So much for clean clothes. They'd changed only hours ago, but Daryl's grey T-shirt, sticking damply to the sweat on his skin, was already torn and blood-stained, as was hers. His boots and faded jeans were mud-splattered from another desperate flight through the woods. A grueling flight that had about done her in, but he'd been relentless in putting distance between them and- And something back there. Something that had made him feel like he was justified in taking some desperate risks.

She turned back to the window and closed her eyes, still struggling to slow her heavy breathing and gather what little strength she had left. Precious little of that remained, she knew. Her body had reached its limit. Her lungs hurt with every breath she took in and the muscles in her legs burned like fire. They must have traveled miles. And every one of those miles had been through some of the roughest terrain she'd ever seen. As if it wasn't enough that they had to fight walkers, it appeared that now there was another threat out there, perhaps an even deadlier one. But only Daryl knew what it was.

When she was able to speak, she asked, "What aren't you telling me?"

Daryl ignored her question. No surprise there. He didn't even look at her as he searched the cabin for food and drink and whatever other useful items he might find. It was his usual habit. For a moment she herself was distracted by the thought of something to quench her thirst. She had probably sweated out a gallon of fluids and she felt as dry as a desert, like even her blood was drying up in her veins.

But she was nothing if not relentless. She tried again. "What did you see out there?" She had a right to know what they were up against. He wasn't doing her any favors by keeping her in the dark.

"Nothing," he muttered, evading any kind of direct answer. He had finished searching all the kitchen cabinets and did, thank goodness, find several bottles of water. He handed one to her and she immediately drank most of it down. But when he turned to go back outside, her voice halted him at the door.

"You're lying."

Hell, Daryl thought, blowing out a sudden, frustrated breath of his own. She wasn't going to let this go. No surprise there. She had to be the stubbornest damnfemale he'd ever met.

He straightened and turned back to the room, sighing deeply as if half surrendering to her. But it wasn't a complete surrender. With both hands he pushed the long, dark strands of his hair back from his face and tried to give her the coldest look he knew how, even while he knew he probably wasn't fooling her. She had an annoying habit of being able to see right through him.

She had him trapped just like a deer in headlights. With nothing more than those big doe eyes. She softened her tone, probably hoping that would help him open up to her. But her words were still an accusation. "Why did you have to manhandle me like that back there? I hurt my ankle. And you practically tore the shirt off my body when you dragged me down into that ravine. See? The thorns tore me to pieces." She held both arms out towards him to make sure he knew the damage he had done.

"Because," came his drawling reply as he looked up from the scratches. "When I can't persuade you, I have to drive you. And in case you hadn't noticed, I was trying to save your ass back there."

She was still waiting for a better explanation, tilting her head in that way she had, silently challenging him as if he owed her some kind of explanation.

"All right. You want to know what I saw in that barn?" He didn't want to argue with her. He decided that the only thing to do here was to give her a minimum of information and shock her into letting it be. "I saw dead bodies. Not the walking dead kind, but people like _us_ that had been murdered, bled out and hung up like something in a butcher shop."

"Like us?" she echoed in a ghost of a voice, the shock he had expected to see coming to life in her eyes.

"No one I recognized," he said quickly. As he suddenly realized what else was in those eyes, he immediately tried to put her fears to rest.

"Why- " She began, trying to reason it through in her own mind, but maybe still too exhausted to string her thoughts coherently together. She looked more done in than he had ever seen her. Like a wilted flower drooping in the heat.

"Why do you think?" he said more harshly than he intended. "Food is scarce."

Her eyes widened with the comprehension she would rather not have faced as she gave him a horrified look.

"So from now on," he continued in a dragged-out, deliberate tone. "We're going to have to be- even more vigilant. And- " he added, his voice lowering to a deeper rasp, a no-nonsense, accusing one. "When I say stay put, I mean stay put. You almost got both of us killed back there when you started second guessing me."

_More_ vigilant? She thought. Was that even possible? They were in a continual state of high-alert as it was. They never let their guard down. Even when they slept.

Daryl knew he ought to cut her some slack. He had been brutal with her. Both physically and emotionally. Partly out of fear for her safety. Partly out of habitual cussedness. But she needed to learn to obey him without questioning him first, if they were going to have any chance of survival at all. Maybe it came down to trust. He knew she struggled with it. Same as he did. Trusting someone had its risks.

"I wasn't trying to second guess you. I _had_ to look for you. How could I know that you weren't killed, or that you didn't need my help?" she asked as she continued to watch him with those innocent, wide-open eyes. She still didn't get it. The women's lib crap didn't cut it out here. She had two choices. She could learn that from him, or she could learn that from experience. Unfortunately, experience could prove to be deadly.

He stared back at her, saw her watching him intently from beneath her lashes. He also noted that her hands were trembling, and that the knife was still in her hands, was still dark with blood. Her clothes, too, were splattered with it. She looked like a warrior that had just done battle but wasn't sure if the fighting was over yet.

She had courage. He gave her that. She had demonstrated more than her share of bravery time and time again. She had even saved his life on more than one occasion. But he wished he could give her back the life she had once known, the one she had been cheated out of. He wished he could take away the shadows that haunted her eyes. For the first time in years, maybe in his lifetime, he felt stirrings of tenderness and compassion rise up within him, emotions that he had never allowed before, emotions that he had thought these last brutal years had ruthlessly driven out of him. It took him by surprise. And it was not comfortable, he found, allowing himself to feel those things. Not only was it uncomfortable, he thought grimly. It was dangerous. Yielding to such sentiments would be a mistake, would be a weakness. And they could not afford weakness of any kind. Not now. Not in this world.

But he admitted, too, if only inwardly, that a passion to protect her had worked its way into his soul and that it refused to be dislodged, despite his best efforts to do so. He would protect her, with his life if that's what it took. He knew this as deeply as he could know a thing. For now, however, he kept that as his own little secret.

"How are you feeling? You need more water?" he asked with more solicitude than he had intended, yielding apparently for a moment to that gentler side that lately he seemed to have more and more trouble hiding.

"Like I just got dragged through a wilderness by a mountain lion who intends to make me his next meal," she replied with a subtly ironic tilt at one corner of her mouth. Ah, he thought to himself, there it is. Her normal resiliency was returning. She looked down then, as if only now becoming aware of the knife still clutched in her hand. She dipped her head further to look at the blood stains on her clothing.

The late afternoon light, sifting through the window of the cabin, was a deep tint of yellow which turned her hair into a blaze of shimmering gold. In spite of the blood stains, she looked- almost angelic with the light behind her like that. Even with the knife. He found himself distracted for a moment. He shook his head slightly, frowning in annoyance at the distraction. He knew better. He just had to remind himself to stay on track every now and then. That was all.

"You need to learn to listen to me," he said, a new harshness purposely creeping into his voice. "We have to do things on my terms." She needed to understand this, and he was the only one who could make sure that she did.

Unperturbed, she studied him for a moment. "You mean I need to learn how to _obey_ you," she said very quietly without taking her gaze from his.

He met the challenge and stared back at her, not flinching either, ignoring the obvious scorn he detected in her voice. "If you want to put it that way," he drawled slowly.

"Because you're the man?"

"Because I'm the man," he replied as if that settled it.

And because, he added silently, she was young and he was much more experienced than she was at living a dangerous life. Because she was too innocent to fully understand all the dangers out there. And because he'd about die if something happened to her. That sudden, spontaneous thought both surprised and disturbed him. He paused and shifted his weight slightly. What was he going to do with her?

"Any objections?" he asked, now softly challenging her.

She didn't argue although that's just what he had come to expect from her. She kept her gaze averted and gave a noncommittal shake of her head, which told him nothing. _His_ gaze narrowed slightly as he continued to study her face. Had he gotten through to her? Or was she saving this particular fight for another time? He was exhausted. She had to be dead on her feet. Maybe she wasn't up to an argument at the moment. But like any other woman, he suspected that she was fully capable of putting an issue on the back burner until it was time to bring it up again. Women tended to save up ammunition that way and Beth was no different.

"Did you get a good look at the bad guys back at that farm?" she asked, switching tactics.

She had caught him off guard. It wasn't what he expected her to ask.

And _bad guys?_ That sounded so like her. She had a childlike, simplistic way of looking at the world sometimes. Which just proved his point. In some ways she was still an innocent.

"A closer look than I wanted to," he assured her, hoping that would satisfy her.

Maybe if Little Miss Innocence had seen the group of men for herself, he thought as he continued to stare down at her, she'd be more worried.

"Do you think they knew we were there? And do you think they would- bother us?"

He stared back at her. Oh, yeah. He had no doubt they would _bother_ them. But bother was an understatement. One look had been enough to tell him what kind of men they could be dealing with if they weren't careful. He wanted to avoid a confrontation at all costs. He knew very well what such men were capable of, even in the best of times. And these were about as far from the best of times as you could get. If they got their hands on Beth- He cut those thoughts short. He wasn't going to let that happen. Not while he had breath left in his body.

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him. "What else did you see in that barn?"

He surprised her by giving her an immediate answer. "Trust me. You don't want to know."

Her eyebrows lifted, but to his surprise, she didn't pursue it. As for Beth, she wasn't sure she wanted to know what it was he was trying so hard to keep from her. Something in Daryl's eyes and in the tautness of his jaw muscles kept her from questioning him further. He had seen something terrible. She was sure of it. But she'd been through enough for one day. She didn't know if she could handle anything else at the moment. And she knew from experience that wild horses couldn't drive Daryl if he didn't want to be driven.

A covert glance at Beth's downcast eyes told Daryl that she was probably imagining all kinds of scenarios for the blanks that he had not filled in for her. He wished he could put her fears to rest, but the brutal truth was that he couldn't do that.

"Imagine the Governor," he said, careful to keep any trace of emotion from his voice. "But a lot worse." No need for her to know more than that.

Daryl was, Beth suspected, feigning an indifference now that he didn't feel. "Some people are like animals," he went on. "They don't think like we do. They have their own set of rules." He knew another fleeting moment of regret when he saw the worry finally register in her eyes. She should be worried, he knew. And yet, in spite of that, he tried to reassure her. "But we'll head out when we can and find a better place."

"And where would that be?" she asked.

"Anywhere else. It's too dangerous here."

"I'm getting hungry," he said, changing the subject and turning to avoid looking at her. He didn't want to see the disappointment he knew would be there. He knew what she would be thinking. Once again her hopes of settling down in one place had been taken away from her without warning. He knew that more than anything else, she wanted a place to call home. A safe place where they didn't have to continuously be on the run. Hell, he wanted that, too. But this place wasn't it.

"Well, I always did want to travel," she muttered half to herself as she got up from her chair. "For as long as I can remember, I thought I wanted more out of life than what the farm offered." She sighed deeply. "I just wasn't thinking _this_."

"None of us was thinking this."

"I do miss the farm," she admitted. "You get to know a house by how it feels in all the different seasons." She paused and sighed. "You know. Summer feels different than winter. And spring feels different than fall. But they all feel like home. It seems like a lifetime ago since I was there. And a lifetime since I stopped believing in happy endings," she added.

He had paused to stare out the big bay window. His arms were folded against his chest and he seemed, for the moment, to be lost in his own thoughts.

"Did you see something," she asked in alarm, coming closer and standing on her toes to see over his shoulder. She was immediately surrounded by his familiar masculine scent. Scarcely aware of what she was doing, she leaned a little closer, drawn like a moth to a flame, resisting the urge to lay her cheek against the comforting strength of his broad back. It was a dangerous and inexplicable yearning, but it was always like this lately whenever she was close to him. She had to make a conscious effort to keep from reacting to something instinctual, something deep inside her that threatened to melt away every shred of common sense she had ever possessed. It frightened her, sometimes, to realize just how strong the need to be close to him had become.

While she was imagining what his reaction would be if she were to give in to the growing fascination, though it was a completely unreasonable one, to lay her hands caressingly on his back and explore the muscles there, he shook his dark head. His voice rumbled deep in his chest. "No."

She tried to remember what her question had been and shook herself mentally with a re-newed determination that he should never guess her weakness. "Are we safe here?" she asked, wishing she had not sounded so breathless, giving herself some distance, and wondering, dear heavens, why being close to Daryl always caused such a disruption inside her.

"I think so," he answered. "At least for the night."

It was the best he could give her. She was disillusioned by life, he knew. Just as he was. How could she feel any other way? Both their lives had become a prison sentence of just struggling to stay alive, along with a knife blade in their hearts, twisted again and again, every time they lost someone they cared about. Even though he himself had tried not to be caught off guard any more, he wasn't always successful. Losses came suddenly and without warning on such a continuous basis that life had also became an ongoing struggle against hopelessness. Just like her, he knew very well that not everything had a happy ending, that life was fragile at best and that violent death and unspeakable brutality were routine occurrences now.

He was hungry as a wolf and knew she must be, too. It was a safer distraction and so he concentrated on getting dinner ready. It was a lot less disruptive than thinking about Beth, especially when she was as close to him as she had been a minute ago. He had felt her warmth seep right through his clothes as she stood behind him. He would have preferred being alone at the moment so he could re-group, but she walked across the room to help him with the food. Luckily, the cabin had a small supply of canned goods so they wouldn't go hungry tonight. He handed her a can opener and started looking through the cans.

"I stopped believing in happily-ever-afters," she began conversationally as she stood beside him. "Ever since- " She broke off abruptly.

He glanced down and finished for her. "Ever since the world got turned upside down and you lost everyone you ever cared about."

His blunt statement caused her to swallow heavily. But she nodded. She used to find it annoying to no end that he had an almost uncanny ability to anticipate her unspoken words and thoughts. At the moment, however, she found it almost comforting. Maybe because it was the closest she would ever get to sharing her thoughts with another human being.

"I still have _you_," she said under her breath without looking up.

He merely grunted and handed her a can of peaches.

"So you have a plan ready for tomorrow?" she asked as they sat down at the table.

Daryl picked up his fork and speared a wedge of peach. Going along with his plans was the closest she ever came to "obeying" him. She always cautiously maintained some semblance of independence, even if it was only a token of independence. Relying on someone else was risky business in this world. You could find yourself alone and on your own at a moment's notice and the emotional toll could be devastating.

Beth wasn't like Carol who would blindly follow a man even if he treated her badly. Beth couldn't abide abuse of any kind. She'd set off on her own more than once after he had been brutal with her. He knew now that she had been setting boundaries and he had a growing respect for her for that. She wasn't about to trade in her self-respect because she was afraid of being alone.

The truth was that deep down Beth could be fiercely independent if she had to be, and she wasn't bluffing about it. He knew with a certainty that if he stepped over the line, she'd leave him in a heartbeat and go off on her own for good. Some things had to be on her terms. Which was fine with him. He did a lot of demanding himself.

"Same plan as always," he answered her as he ate. "We expect the worst and hope it doesn't happen. We do things right. We do things smart. And that means," he reminded her as he pointed the fork in her direction for emphasis. "That you do what I tell you to do without any questions asked."

She nodded slightly, without even a syllable of protest.

He lifted one dark brow as he stared at her across the table. "That easy?"

She looked up from her plate. "What?"

"I'm wondering why it was so easy to convince you to listen to me."

"It's no big deal." She shrugged blue-clad shoulders. "It's better than listening to Rick. Rick got a lot of people killed because of his decisions. He even got a horse killed."

This was what he wanted from her, needed from her, and he knew that she had to make a huge effort to put so much faith in him. She had to sacrifice her natural inclinations. Inclinations that had been taught to her in a much different world. But conflicting thoughts were still warring within him. A part of him fought against being responsible for her. The burden, at times, seemed too much for him to bear. In the past, perhaps, he would have turned his back on her without a second thought. But that wasn't going to happen now. Something had changed him. _She_ had changed him.

After they had eaten and darkness had fallen, he stretched himself out on the carpeted floor before the fireplace. He had let her have the sofa right next to him. "Let's get some sleep," he said after a prolonged yawn. He stretched out leisurely, feeling confident that he had taken enough precautions to keep them safe for the night. It wasn't too uncomfortable on the floor with a pile of blankets under him, he decided. And they wouldn't be cold. They had endured plenty of cold, teeth-chattering nights already where they only had each other's body heat to keep from freezing to death. It was something he especially hated. Sleepless nights spent shivering out in the open without a blanket didn't prepare you for what the day ahead might hold. But they should rest well tonight.

He laced his hands behind his head and stared up at the shadows in silence for a while, then said, "Don't worry about tomorrow."

"It doesn't do any good to worry," he heard her reply in the darkness. "I won't let myself be afraid," she said as if she had the ability to make that choice and had resigned herself to whatever lay ahead. What was forced bravado and what was simply resignation he had no way of knowing. But he already knew she had guts and an inner strength that had helped her survive this far.

They had both seen enough to know that nothing was certain and that nothing, absolutely nothing, could be taken for granted. Life was a daily struggle for survival on the most basic level. For food, for shelter, for the basic necessities. They didn't have time to think much beyond that.

"Those bad men- " she said quietly. "Do you think they're lost because of their choices?"

"Lost?"

"You know."

"Their choice is to catch people and then kill them. They've put a lot of effort into it. So if that's makes them lost, then I guess they are."

"How do you know they've put so much effort into it?" she asked.

"I saw signs," he replied, hoping she would not question him further.

"You know," she began in the darkness. "A lot of people will probably get caught in their trap. Like we almost did." And then she added, borrowing a phrase from him. "I'm just saying."

Daryl didn't reply. He knew too much about the kind of men who were responsible for the gruesome things he had seen in the barn. He wouldn't tell her about the shackled, beaten thing that had once been a human being. Or the woman who had also obviously been so brutalized that it had sickened him.

The lines about his mouth were tight with unexpressed emotion in the darkness. And Beth could not see it in the darkness, but there was a murderous glint in his eyes as he recalled all he had seen. She was right, he thought to himself. A lot of people would get caught in their trap. Had there been any survivors, he knew he would be wrestling right now with a decision to go rescue them. But there hadn't been any. And he realized that that was probably for the best. Just as much for them as for him. As for Beth, he would have to leave her behind, alone and on her own, if he did go back. But there was no need for that now.

He forced himself to concentrate on the best plan of action for the days ahead. He needed to be thorough. He needed to concentrate on keeping them both alive, to be alert to every sign in the woods, no matter how insignificant. Not just because of some built-in survival instinct, but also because Beth needed him. Without him . . .

He stopped himself from dwelling further on his fears. That wasn't going to do either one of them any good. He reminded himself that he had to be focused. There was no room for error. No room for hesitation or uncertainty. Not when there was the worst kind of predator out there. Human predators.

As he stared up into the darkness, he told himself something else. He had to be the biggest fool that ever lived. He closed his eyes, telling himself one more time that he ought to have more sense. A hell of a lot more sense.

Being attracted to Beth was way beyond stupid. It was dangerous and it wasn't like they didn't have enough danger in their lives right now. In fact, it seemed like there was danger enough for a hundred lifetimes. He chided himself for his weakness. Because that's how he saw it. As a weakness. One neither of them needed right now.

"I'll get over this," he vowed silently to himself as he buried his desire for her into a dark, hidden part of his soul. 

* * *

To Be Continued


	2. Chapter 2

_**Beth and Daryl:**_

_**The Shadows and the Roses**_

_**Chapter 2  
**_

Beth's face was still stinging from the brutal blow to her face.

"That was your first lesson," the man growled beside her. His hand was still raised threateningly. "Keep still or I'll give you another one."

She knew instinctively that she could expect no mercy from the owner of that voice and that the man, whoever he was, was fully capable of making good on his threat. His body was half turned as if he was intently looking out the rear window at something behind them. At the moment he was concentrating on that instead of on her. He finally gave a satisfied snort and turned around.

Everything had happened so fast. The dark car pulling up in a cloud of dust beside her. The door being flung wide open. And then a man leaping upon her and ruthlessly forcing her into the backseat of the car.

She was trying her best to clear her mind and to come up with some kind of escape plan before any more time got away from her, before they got farther away. She had tried to fight them, to no avail, and right now the car was moving too fast for her to try and jump out without serious injury to herself. In any case, she had no doubt the men would immediately stop the car and hunt her down.

The man in the front seat was driving almost recklessly, swerving from one side of the road to the other, taking the curves entirely too fast. The car hit a deep rut and she was flung like a ragdoll against the door beside her. She couldn't keep from crying out in pain as the door handle dug deeply into her side.

There were two men. The driver and a man who sat next to her in the back seat. The man beside her was a hulking giant of a man. His facial features had been blurred and indistinct in the shadowed interior of the car. But those features came more into focus as he leaned towards her and peered closely at her face.

"We should keep this one for ourselves," he spoke up, talking to the driver. "Who would know?"

"You mean take her back to the farm instead of to Terminus?" the driver asked.

"That's just what I mean."

Even in the dimness of the car, Beth couldn't help but see that the man beside her looked at her with such evil intent that she couldn't help cringing as far away from him as possible.

"No one has to know," the man went on, trying to convince the driver. "She can be our little secret."

The men continued their discussion like she wasn't even there. The driver mostly grunted his answers. He didn't agree. Nor did he disagree. He also didn't slow his breakneck pace down the dark road. More than once Beth had to grit her teeth against the bone-jarring bumps.

"We could say that she was eaten and that there was nothing left of her," she heard the man beside her say. "Hell, Hitch, who could prove anything different happened?" He continued to watch her, as if anticipating the effect his words had on her.

"Yeah. We could say that," came Hitch's remark from the front seat. "It's not like her boyfriend back there could tell anyone a different story," he pointed out. "He's got to be dead by now."

She refused to believe it. Daryl couldn't be dead. She had to get back there and _know_. She had to help him if he needed help. She had to let him know she was still alive even though she was getting farther and farther away from him by the moment.

The man beside her was thoughtfully silent for a long time. "Who says we have to obey Gareth's orders," he said. "It's not like we're his private army and don't have a say in anything we do."

"Maybe he'll let you have 'er," Hitch suggested with a quick glance over his shoulder.

"Not this one," the other man said soberly as he continued to watch her. "He won't give her up. He'll want her at Terminus."

Beth's heart was pounding hard in her chest and sending blood pumping hotly through her veins. A surge of adrenaline made her reckless. "What is Terminus?" she asked breathlessly. "And who is Gareth?"

"Terminus?" her back-seat captor echoed. "Terminus is a dead end. I can promise you, you'll like staying with me a whole lot better.

"And Gareth? Hell, you don't want to find out. He runs Terminus. It's the same with every house within miles of there. He runs it all." As if he wanted to make sure she understood, he leaned closer to her. "People are herded and trapped like cattle, and then they are rounded up and taken to Terminus for a one-way trip."

"People? Not walkers?"

"Walkers?" the man echoed. "Oh, you mean the dead bastards. No, we don't have any use for _them_."

"So you- you round up living people."

"It's not as hard as you would think. People are desperate enough, and usually stupid enough, to fall for anything. Look how easy it was to catch you and your boyfriend in one of our little traps."

_You're at an advantage if people underestimate you,_ Daryl had told her. _If they believe you're not a threat, they won't be so watchful. In some situations that can make all the difference._

Beth knew she had to keep the man talking to give herself time for a plan. "You mean the funeral home was a trap?"

Maybe they should have expected that. Daryl had been suspicious of the place at first. He had only thought of staying there because of her, she knew. And because of her, they had fallen into a trap. A deadly one.

"You got it," came the bland reply. "People are nothing to Gareth. Hitler wanted to take over the world. To a man with the same kind of ambition, it's not so hard to pick up the pieces of this broken world and carve out your own little piece of territory."

"Where men like this Gareth are the king?" She was thinking about the governor. Look where underestimating him had gotten them. She must be careful, very, very careful, not to repeat the same mistake. Power-hungry men were dangerous men.

"Why not? There are plenty of people left in this world who are so scared and so tired of running and starving that they'll do anything to survive. And the truth is that most of 'em want to be led. They don't want to do the leading. Monkey see, monkey do. They see others doing something, they figure it's OK for them, too. Gives them a kind of permission they wouldn't normally give themselves.

"Gareth offers lost souls food and a safe place to live, a code to live by, and even his own perverted brand of religion. There's something for everyone." He chuckled humorlessly, cynically in the darkness. "For others," he went on cryptically. "There are other lures that keep them in line."

"You are from this Terminus, too?" she dared to ask, had to ask.

"I wouldn't live there," came the answer from the darkness. "There are too many restrictions for men like us. Right, Hitch? We live on the outside, like soldiers guarding the outer walls. Gareth doesn't want us there anyway. He wouldn't risk it. He knows we'd be- a disruption and that we wouldn't stand for the kind of control those people live under behind their fences and their brick walls.

"They think the walls and the fences are there to keep them safe, but Gareth has his own reasons for those things. If the people don't do what they're told, if they try to leave, they die. Gareth makes sure they know that and, more importantly, he sees to it that they always remember what disobedience can lead to. In a way, they're confined like mindless cattle, too. Only they do the choosing. It's their choice to live that way."

Beth listened with growing comprehension. And horror.

"As for the ones that insist on leaving, Gareth has some of them taken to the funeral home and preserved there. Every once in a while he takes groups of his people up there to mourn. And to remind them what will happen if they forget to do as they're told. If they try to leave, they'll be just like those rotting corpses up there. Or worse.

"He's clever. I'll give him that. He's convinced them that if they try to eat anything that he hasn't personally blessed and sanctioned, then they'll become infected. And they believe him because it's what they want to believe. It eases their conscience, helps them sleep at night. Yeah, he's got a regular cult going on up there. And Gareth? He sees himself as a Messiah in the middle of an apocalypse."

In the darkness, Beth caught the predatory gleam in the man's eyes as his gaze roamed boldly over her. "But I'm saving you from all that. And I expect you to start showing me a little gratitude. Just like Gareth shows gratitude for all that I do for him.

"Pull over to the side of the road for a little bit," he told the driver.

When the car had finally rolled to a stop, the man opened a small box that had been setting on the seat beside him. Beth watched as he withdrew a hypodermic needle. He stuck the needle in his arm, leaned back and waited with his eyes closed for the drug, whatever it was, to take effect. When he fixed her with his eyes again, he said chillingly, "Your turn."

Beth was so terrified that it suddenly seemed that there was no breath left in her body. Neither was there warmth. It felt like ice water flowed through her veins. As the man ran the back of his fingers along her cheek, she instinctively turned her face and flinched from his touch. He acted swiftly and without warning and grabbed her face roughly in one hand, then twisted his body so that it loomed threateningly over hers. "Second lesson," he gritted between clenched teeth. "You don't pull away from me. Ever."

* * *

To Be Continued...


	3. Chapter 3

_**Beth and Daryl:**_

_**The Shadows and the Roses**_

_**Chapter 3**_

_Two days earlier_

From the porch overhang, Beth looked out over a deep hollow that was softened by the rising evening mist. The mist drifted in ghostlike layers between the fringed branches of the pine trees that swept up to become a dense forest on all sides of the cabin. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply of the sweet scent of pine. She gripped the porch railing in both hands, leaning a little forward, a dreamy expression on her face.

She sat down on the porch swing and found herself thinking about Daryl. Again. There had been something deeper in his eyes today. It was something that had helplessly drawn her own gaze time and time again. She had caught him watching her several times when he thought she was not looking.

He was not sure of her yet, she supposed. He was wondering whether she would instantly obey him or not. But she couldn't put his uncertainty to rest. The time would come soon enough when she was put to the test. And then he would know for sure.

She opened the first pages of the journal in her lap. It had been a gift from Daryl. He had presented it to her gruffly and without explanation. Which was so like him. He was so afraid of having anyone, even her, think that he could be kind or thoughtful in any way, as if that somehow made him vulnerable. Maybe in the past acts of kindness had not turned out well for him. And maybe as a result he had learned to keep protective walls around his heart. But this was not the past. The past was dead and buried and its ghosts needed to be laid to rest.

She treasured the book perhaps more than she should, she knew. Maybe because Daryl had given it to her. Would she write herself onto the pages? If she had the courage. And the honesty. For a long time she had desperately needed a place to pour all her emotions. And this was the best place. Because a book couldn't judge or criticize. But mostly because a book couldn't die.

The truth was that she was so peacefully happy about the gift because Daryl had given it to her without her expecting it. She had not mentioned wanting a journal. She had not even hinted that she wanted one. But yet again, he had anticipated her needs and her wishes. To her, this meant that this was who he really was inside and that he was willing to risk exposing his vulnerability to her. It touched her deeply seeing this gentle, but brave side of him. Because she had no doubt whatsoever that it took a tremendous amount of bravery on his part to get past the lessons of his past. They were building something together, a friendship perhaps, in which they anticipated each other's needs and each other's wishes without having to express those things in words. And that, she knew, was a good thing.

She opened the small book and on the first page, she wrote: _ The old life is part of the past. We live in the middle of a wilderness, just like pioneers who have to be strong in the face of many hardships. I did not think there were such things anymore, but today was nearly a perfect day . . . _

She wrote on for a time, getting it all down on paper, then looked up as Daryl appeared in the doorway. A bath, not to mention a change of clothes, had transformed him. She realized with some surprise that he had been making an effort with his appearance lately. Maybe because in an angry moment she had told him that he was more like a scarecrow than a human being. She had meant that in a Wizard-of-Oz kind of way, as in he had no heart, but she suspected that he had thought she had meant his physical appearance.

She was sorry for what she had said, for the truth was that he had stayed by her, risking his life sometimes. Many times. He could have left her behind and saved himself a lot of trouble. Instead he had kept her by his side, taking the time to show her how to gather food from the forest, and how to track things and read signs in the woods. Of course it had been like pulling teeth to get him to teach her those things at first. He really must have been a devoted loner in his previous life. Eventually, he had become comfortable with what he called "the unfortunately-necessary job of helping her catch up on her woeful lack of a practical education."

In a short period of time, he had taught her a great deal about survival. He was always testing out potential weapons. He made her carry not one knife in her boot safely, but two. A can of pepper spray, he insisted, was a necessity. He made her promise to carry one on her at all times.

"Does it really work on walkers?" she had asked.

"Walkers?" he had echoed. "I'd better not catch you trying to use pepper spray on a walker."

He had not wanted to leave the cabin until they were well rested, well fed and up to putting a full day of travel behind them. He did tell her that he was certain that the "bad guys" were fully capable of tracking them and that they would have to be very cautious when they did leave. As cautious as they had to be in the populated areas they passed through.

It was a war-torn world where entire cities had been burned to the ground. The smell of smoke was everywhere, even after all this time. The scorched debris smoldered endlessly. Small towns, too, were sometimes mere burned out shells and they were always a risk. But bigger cities were even more dangerous and were avoided at all costs wherever possible. Smaller towns were always safer, even if they were eerily silent with no traffic, no school children playing, and no church bells ringing.

But they were comfortably settled here in this remote log cabin, far from any other dwellings with only a vast wilderness surrounding them like a hedge between them and the rest of the world. It was a beautiful setting, a tranquil, serene place where she thought she might have been happy staying forever. But they had to move on. As unfortunately they always did.

Earlier, they had bathed in the pond not far from the cabin and changed into clothes that they had found packed away in boxes in the cabin. Right now Daryl had pulled up a porch chair and was looking at his reflection in a little mirror that he had propped up on the porch railing. He began spreading lather on his chin and cheeks as he prepared to shave. It looked just like he was frosting a cake, she mused as she watched him, her journal forgotten for the moment. She continued to watch him shave with a kind of fascination, held by his seriousness as he leaned forward, completely absorbed in the task. He turned his face to one side and scraped the razor slowly through the white foam, then did the same on the other side. She had never seen a man shave before. At least she had never watched so openly.

She saw him glance at her in the mirror for an instant and for some unaccountable reason she immediately felt the blood rise to her cheeks. She quickly dipped her head to her journal and busied herself with her pen once again. She didn't dare look at Daryl after that.

Daryl's frown remained in place as he rinsed the last traces of lather from his face. He had shifted his gaze to see Beth watching him in the mirror. When she realized that _he_ was watching _her_, her gaze had quickly skittered away, but not before he had seen the rapt, almost mesmerized, attention with which she had been regarding him.

Why she suddenly looked so embarrassed he had no idea. For crying out loud, the woman stood up to him like no man had ever stood up to him before. And she had no end of names that she called him when she was on her high horse. Stonehenge Man for one. The model for Mt. Rushmore for another. Which was better than being an insensitive, unfeeling jerk, he supposed. She used that one a lot. Sometimes, if she was mad enough, she just sputtered something incoherent. Most times she looked so damned serious when she was ranting at him that it was about all he could do to not burst out laughing. She'd stomp her foot and fix him with a lethal glare that would have withered most men. Even worse were the times when she would stop what she was doing and look up slowly with a low-voiced "What did you say?" Or when she would simply catch her breath, so wrought up that she couldn't find words to slay him no matter how hard she tried.

To his credit, he tried his hardest to maintain a stoic expression during such times, but sometimes- Sometimes it was all he could do to keep from laughing out loud at the outlandish descriptions she came up with. More than once, he'd had to walk away from her so she wouldn't see him laugh. And no doubt, if she ever suspected how much amusement she had provided him, she would show him no mercy.

But as he thought over their tempestuous relationship, his expression sobered. Something had changed between them in the past week or so. They had been sliding gradually into an easier relationship where they were getting more comfortable with each other. But there was something else. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Something that felt strangely like an electrical current in the air whenever they got too close to each other. He couldn't fathom it. He only knew that he had to do his damndest to keep her from knowing how she affected him. He also knew, he thought as his frown deepened, that she expected more from him than he had ever expected of himself. Or that anyone else had ever expected of him. Maybe that was part of it. The pressure of her expectations. But deep down he knew it was more than that. And there were times when he thought that she was feeling-

_Hell._

He was just fooling himself. She would think up a whole new vocabulary of names to describe him if she knew some of the things he was thinking. And none of them would be flattering.

_You old pervert. _

Yeah. He could imagine her spewing that one out.

He sighed like a man who knew he was in danger of losing his moorings in the middle of a stormy sea and couldn't do one damn thing to change it.

Best to go inside, he told himself, forcing himself not to look in her direction again. Out of sight, out of mind. He silently repeated the phrase, sincerely hoping that it would prove to be true.

But in the front room of the cabin, despite his best intentions, he found himself thinking about her again as he stared out the big bay window at the sunset reflected on the smooth surface of the pond. She had bathed in that pond earlier, and as he had kept watch, she had admonished him more than once to keep a close eye on the woods because she didn't want to be caught unaware while she was stark naked. His imagination had caught _him_ unaware as he sat with his back to her. He was imagining her stark naked and dripping wet behind him, lathered up with that sweet-smelling soap she'd found at the cabin because she did not, she had told him, want to take a bath just to end up smelling like fish and sea weed.

And so, armed with the soap, half a bottle of strawberry-scented shampoo and a whole assortment of toiletries from the cabin, she'd marched down the hillside and informed him that she was going to take a long, leisurely bath in the pond. Would he please keep watch.

To say that her quiet splashes and her sounds of pleasure had been a distraction was an understatement. After a few smothered squeals and gasps before she got used to the cold water, of course.

"This feels so good," she would exclaim behind him. And, "This must be what heaven feels like. I could stay in here forever."

In the end he couldn't resist taking a bath himself. She had been right. It did feel like heaven to wash off countless layers of gritty dirt and sweat. And now? Now he found himself wondering how he had gotten to the point where he lived just to see that smile on her face and hear the pleasure in her voice when he did something that pleased her. He was realizing, too, that he spent a good deal of his time thinking about a better world that he might build for her where he could keep her safe and happy, and not just on a temporary basis.

There had been a lot of clothes stored away in the cabin. Not just the rustic ones you might expect to see, but fancy clothes, too. After digging through the boxes, she had another one of her brilliant, unrealistic ideas. She suggested that they dress for dinner. At first he had shaken his head adamantly at her request. No way was he going to do that. But in the end he knew he could deny her nothing. So when she came out of the bedroom in a summer dress of some kind of soft blue material that floated around her like a cloud, he shouldn't have been so unprepared.

He had to stare at her transformation for a long time before he could recover. The change in her appearance had just about knocked the breath out of him. She had smiled, seeing that he was wearing the clothes she had picked out for him, too. Smiled maybe in part because he had done as she had requested. And maybe in part because she thought it was an improvement. No scarecrows today.

As she had passed through the room, she had looked critically at her reflection in the mirror, made a face and then said wistfully as she absently folded the blue folds of her dress, "It's been a long time since I felt like a princess."

There was no fairy godmother around and there was no ball to go to. And there sure as hell wasn't a prince in sight. But today, he decided, if she wanted to feel like a princess, well, hell- that's what she should do. She did look happy and content as if, for a moment at least, the world was not in shattered pieces around them and they were not bashing in the heads of decomposing corpses.

She swept past him and disappeared in one of the bedrooms. After she had reappeared and settled herself down on the sofa, he saw the colorful little bottles in her hands. She carefully lined them up on the coffee table before her, studying them with an intensity that drew his gaze.

Was she really thinking about painting her nails? Apparently she was, for she had already started the process. She propped one bare foot up on the coffee table and started stuffing wadded pieces of tissue between her toes. When that was done, she picked up one of the bottles, shook it vigorously and then devoted her attention to carefully applying the polish. When all ten nails were done, she sat back to admire the results.

In a world populated by the undead, only she could think about something like painting her nails. And be so serious about it.

She held her foot out and wiggled it in his direction. "Are you in love with this color, or what?"

He didn't answer her, just stared, while she started on her finger nails. "It's nice here, isn't it?" she sighed.

He nodded then realized that she couldn't see him, which was good because he was watching her with the same single-minded attention that a starving dog stares at a left-over steak bone.

But he agreed. It was nice. He grunted some kind of answer which seemed to satisfy her She nodded without having to look up.

That life could be this laid-back was a wonder to him. Just a few days ago he would never have believed that he could feel anything remotely good again, much less such a feeling of deep contentment over such a small thing as watching her paint her nails. It was, he realized, the same when she brushed her hair. Or when she sang. It was the sharing, he supposed, that drew him. The normalcy. The slow pace. The peace and quiet. The only sounds to disturb the deep silence were the bird songs in the trees outside. There was no threat hanging over their heads at the moment. No fighting. No disruptive drama that could turn deadly at a moment's notice as there had been when they'd been with the group. Desperate people tended to make desperate decisions, often selfish ones. Unfortunately, those decisions cast a ripple effect over everyone.

Till now, his own life had been harsh and shiftless. Selfish. Looking back, he was full of regrets. He had made no positive choices. He had always followed, good or bad, the decisions of others without question. And yet, a part of him had rebelled inwardly, had fought that prison of hopelessness that all his life had made him believe that he was nothing, that he had no choices, that his life didn't matter.

But she had changed all that. Maybe because his life mattered to her. Even the small things. She had the strange ability to make him look differently at the world, as if he was seeing everything for the first time. Through her eyes, perhaps.

He knew that tomorrow everything would change. Tomorrow they would leave this place and things would almost certainly go back to the way they were. He had to get his mind around that and accept it. This respite would not last, no matter how much he wanted it to. But for now, for as long as it did last, he would cherish every moment because the memory would be an anchor for him. He would remember this quiet time as long as he lived because never before had he felt so at peace or so alive.

She dragged him back, unresisting, out onto the porch again after she had finished her nails. "It's nicer out here," she told him. "We'll watch the sun go down." She sighed. "I think a porch has always been my favorite place to sit." She lifted her face and let the wind blow through her hair. The orange flowers of a trumpet vine were vibrant splashes of color behind her. "We should make the most of this while we can. Don't you think?"

He realized it was a question. He stared at her blankly for a moment, then answered her. "Yeah, sitting on a porch sipping on a cold beer sounds real good to me, too." He sat down in the porch chair beside her. "Too bad we don't have the beer."

She lifted her face, exposing the smooth column of her throat and the delicate line of her chin. Wild geese were soaring high overhead. Two huge V's of them against a cloudless sky of deep cerulean blue.

"They still fly south," she said so softly that it was like feathers brushing over him. She closed her eyes, completely oblivious to the effect she had upon him. For that he was thankful.

"What if _we_ migrated North?" she asked as if that thought had just occurred to her. "Maybe the walkers freeze solid in the cold up there. That's possible, isn't it?"

"How would we keep from freezing to death ourselves?"

"I don't know." She was thoughtful for a while before adding, "I'm just saying.

"To think," she went on, switching gears to a completely different train of thought. "That I used to find my life boring. Right now I'd give anything to have that boring life back. To hear the quiet sounds of conversation and laughter in the yard after church while I pick a big bouquet of flowers for the table. To smell supper cooking on Sunday afternoons." Her expression changed to a questioning one. "I wonder what day it is today."

He shook his head and shrugged wide shoulders. He didn't have a clue as to what day it was, either.

"We could go fishing sometime, somewhere, maybe cook up a catfish supper," he said because he didn't know what else to say to fill the sudden void of silence that had fallen between them. Why he should suddenly find silence so uncomfortable he didn't know. "You ever been?" he asked, waiting for her reply.

"Fishing? A few times. Way back in my boring lifetime. My cousins would drag me out to the pond."

He frowned down at the porch floor between his boots. "Well, if it bores you- "

"I didn't say it would bore me _now_," she said enigmatically as if there was a deeper meaning behind her words.

She drew a deep breath and released it slowly. "Everything else has stayed the same. The birds still migrate. The flowers still grow in spite of it all. The seasons change. Maybe we're supposed to learn something from that. Maybe it's a lesson that life does go on no matter what."

He was staring into the distance, apparently having no answers for her but listening all the same. She knew he was listening because every once in a while he nodded, agreeing with her. And she suddenly realized something else that she found amazing. That they were having an actual conversation. A long one. And it wasn't entirely one sided. A faint smile touched her lips.

"You're being pretty patient sitting there listening to me talk about nothing."

"Do I have any choice?" One corner of his mouth drew back into a half smile. A very lazy, very sexy smile. "Would you be quiet even if I told you to?"

Her answer was a low laugh. "No. Probably not." The sound of her laughter was such a simple thing, but it touched something deep inside him.

"You know," she went on. "You start out with all these hopes and dreams- You live in a safe, protected world, and then everything changes overnight. You can't prepare for it. You can't foresee what's coming. All you can do is react according to who you are inside."

As usual, he didn't comment, so she slanted a glance in his direction. "What are you thinking?" she asked right out.

_That I should find you some paints_, he thought to himself, _when we get to a town_.

Beth wanted to paint. She had told him that some time ago. What would she paint? he wondered. A landscape? A portrait? A bowl of fruit? Whatever it was, it wouldn't hurt to put some effort into finding her some paints. And brushes. It didn't have to be much.

"I'm thinking," he finally said, noting that her lips were parted as she waited for his reply, as if she were hanging on every word. The sunlight was touching her. It lit up one bare arm and spilled across part of the blue dress. "That we should leave the day after tomorrow."

"Don't you ever think about_ today_?" she asked softly. "Without worrying about tomorrow?"

"This won't last. You know that." He immediately regretted the harshness of his words, just as he hated the sadness that suddenly shadowed her eyes. But it was his duty to bring them both back to earth. Wasn't it?

She gave him a look that belied her years. "But we have till midnight at least? Right? That makes an entire day without- " She searched for the right word. "Disruption."

"Yes, Cinderella, we have till midnight."

She recovered her light-hearted mood with a speed that astounded him. She laughed at what he'd just said. Maybe because he'd called her Cinderella. Once again, it was a warm, rich sound that wove its magic around him. It got inside him, threatened to thaw something that had been frozen for an eternity. He should get up and walk away from her now. Again. That would be the smart thing to do. But he stayed. Trapped just like that struggling moth she had been so concerned with earlier, until she had safely freed it from the spider web. If only there was such a simple way to free him.

But he was caught just like that moth in her goodness. In her innocence. Those things still remained intact. Amazingly. She believed in more than she had a right to believe in after all she had been through. She still worried about doing the right thing. She still held onto that elusive concept of personal choice. Worried that she would take something that belonged to someone else. Worried that he would continue to be a victim to his past. Worried that the living, as well as the dead, died without dignity and a proper burial and without anyone to mourn over them.

She'd seen a dog once at a distance. It had been a scrawny, half-starved looking thing. She had tried to coax the dog into coming closer so she could feed it even though he had told her very firmly that there was no way they could keep a dog. But before the dog could come any closer, it had been run off by walkers and they'd had to move on, but not without her breaking down into a torrent of tears over having to leave the dog behind.

She looked up as a low rumble of thunder warned of a gathering storm. The sound was very faint and very far away, but they had both heard it. He already knew, from the way that the spiders were spinning their webs, that a storm was coming. He knew it in the very feel of the atmosphere. For now, at least, they were safe from any storms. They would not be out in the open as they had been on more than one occasion. But tomorrow- Tomorrow they would continue their desperate search for something they had only been on the verge of finding. Their goal was a fantasy, perhaps, though it was a simple one. It was an endless quest, a holy pilgrimage to find safety and the right to exist.

Hours later, when the storm clouds swept in and the rain was pouring steadily down on the roof and running off the eaves of the porch, he was going over all the reasons why he couldn't have any real attachments. They were all good reasons. Irrefutable reasons. He couldn't have a close relationship with anyone, including Beth, on a personal level at all.

But while they were laying together in the darkness, she on the sofa and he on the floor, he found himself including her in his plans for the first time, discussing tomorrow just like a husband and wife mapping out their future together.

"Do you think it's the same everywhere?" she asked. "All over the world? I mean, how would we know what's happening in England? Or China? Or Japan."

"I don't know."

"You know," she went on in the dark, putting words to her thoughts. "This may be the first time in history when there are no politics for people to argue about and no wars to fight."

"People are still fighting. The wars are just smaller ones. At least here. Human nature doesn't change," he said cynically.

"_We_ don't have to fight. We can put our energy into other things."

"Like what?" he asked. He didn't want to think about fighting either.

"Like thick slices of homemade bread," she said in the same voice Eve must have used to tempt Adam. "Covered with freshly-churned butter."

"Freshly churned?"

"You've never had it?"

"No." he said after a pause, "Is that the kind of butter you eat on a farm?"

"No. We go to the store and buy it. But my dad once showed us how it's made right from the cow."

They were both silent, jarred for a moment into remembering their losses.

"Chocolate donuts," he heard.

"What?"

"I'm imagining a fresh bakery donut covered with chocolate frosting. We'd bring them home every Sunday morning."

"Hell," he breathed in the darkness. "Why not imagine a whole bakery?"

She wondered if he was making fun of her, but decided that he was not, so she went back to imagining the possibilities.

"What about you? What do you crave? Not the dreaded pork rinds everyone eats- _Used _to eat," she corrected herself. "Around here."

"No. Hate 'em. What I miss is pizza. I'd give anything for a pepperoni, sausage and bacon pizza."

"All meats, huh. What about mushrooms?" she asked.

"OK. Mushrooms then."

"How about extra cheese, too?"

"Mm-hmm," he murmured. "I can live with that."

"You know these things have already been thought of and invented," she said. "Maybe when the world rights itself again, they'll come back quickly. I mean, who doesn't like pizza or donuts? Other people must be craving them just like we are. I'll bet cravings probably drive- _Used_ to drive technology all the time."

He rubbed a forefinger thoughtfully back and forth across his cleanly-shaven chin. "Maybe."

"Of course those things may not happen for a long time," she said thoughtfully. "Maybe not for our entire lifetimes." She was silent for a few moments. "I've already had to accept being single for the rest of my life. I won't get married or have a beautiful wedding. I won't have babies." After another thoughtful silence, she said, "Um, about what I told you before. During the drinking game. About dating and about having experience- I lied. Not about the dating, but I haven't- I never- "

His finger abruptly stopped moving on his chin. He wasn't saying anything while she worried that she had said too much.

"Maybe_ before_ I wouldn't have admitted that," she said in a suddenly-serious voice. "To anyone. But now there's just you and me. If we can't have total honesty between us, who can we have it with?"

She had a point there.

"If I can have a relationship with just one person on this earth, I'd like it to be an honest one."

Honesty. If he was to be honest with himself, he was feeling a little uncomfortable at the moment. He tried to lighten the mood. "So you'd expect honesty from a jackass? You've called me that before, you know. More than once," he reminded her.

She turned towards him and raised herself on one elbow. "You _can_ be as stubborn as a jackass sometimes."

"Stubborn, huh? According to you, that doesn't even begin to cover it. You also told me that I was the biggest knuckle-dragging creep that ever walked the planet. And you told me if I was the last man on earth- "

"Daryl, " she interrupted him. "The point I am making is that we still have to make the right choices. So let's choose never to lie to each other."

"All right," he sighed. "No lies."

"We've been through a lot together," she said quietly as she continued to look down at him on the floor.

"Yeah. We have."

In the beginning, she recalled that they'd had some knock-down-drag-out brawls. At least verbal ones. But she'd also seen the cracks in Daryl's tough exterior. She'd seen him break down and cry, show remorse over her father's death _and_ take responsibility for it. And she'd held him through it all, needing his closeness as much as he'd needed hers.

"Have you ever lied to me?"

He didn't answer immediately.

"Have you?"

"I lied when I said that fruit thing you made was good. If I wasn't half starved to death, I wouldn't have been able to get it down."

She didn't take offense at that. He thought he saw a faint smile on her lips in the darkness.

"Someday, Daryl Dixon," he heard. "I'm going to make you the best pizza you ever had. Wait and see if I don't." 

* * *

To Be Continued...


	4. Chapter 4

_**Beth and Daryl:**_

_**The Shadows and the Roses**_

_**Chapter 4**_

The man shoved her hard between her shoulder blades. "Move."

Beth gritted her teeth against the rough treatment as she stumbled and barely managed to keep herself from falling headlong to the ground.

She'd managed to escape from the car. But it had been a desperate move on her part. She hadn't gotten very far before she felt rough fingers closing around her arm and jerking her around to a standstill. Now she was being marched back to the car like a condemned prisoner being taken to the executioner.

Daryl had always insisted she be well armed. "You never know," he had told her repeatedly. "What kind of a mess you might find yourself in. Always be prepared. Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. Anything can be used as a weapon if you are desperate enough."

Was she prepared? Not remotely. She couldn't even think straight because she was so scared. Fear, not preparation, was driving her at the moment. Stark, utter fear.

Maybe that could work to her advantage. Let him think I'm too scared to fight back, she told herself. Let him think I'm going to be an easy conquest. Let him get close enough, and when he was not expecting resistance, then she would make her move. She just didn't know what that would be yet.

Daryl's lessons kept playing and re-playing through her head. Bad people, he had told her, just make the next group have to be even badder. And _those_ would be the ones who would survive. That had been his brief commentary on social structure. An astute one, perhaps, for he had begun and then lived his life in a dog-eat-dog world. Even before everything had fallen apart. She had grown up in a very different kind of world, and he had been so hard on her, she knew, because he wanted her to survive. She knew now why he was always on the alert, knew why he never let his guard down and tried never to show vulnerability. He knew what some men were capable of while she didn't have a clue. Until now.

The man shoved her again. Harder this time. And this time she tripped and went down to her hands and knees in the dirt.

"Get up."

She didn't move fast enough to suit him, so he grabbed the back of her hair and dragged her to her feet. She yelped in pain, twisted and fought the brutal hold he kept on her hair. His reaction was to twist his fist even more tightly in her unbound curls. He brought her face close to his and hissed, "Bitch!" Without warning, he struck her. It was a vicious, back-handed blow across the side of her face. Her head swam and tears sprang into her eyes, blurring her vision. She tasted blood.

"Keep it quiet," Hitch whined in a high-pitched, strained voice. "You'll draw the damn things right down on top of us."

Beth fully expected the man to hit her again. He still maintained a tight grip on her hair. She could hear his slow, deep pants close beside her. The other man, Hitch, was standing there, too, watching. She registered the excited smile on his face. He's enjoying this, she thought. He wants to see me afraid. He's anticipating-

She heard more vile words from the man who held her. He promised to give her a lasting lesson about who was in control, promised to punish her for trying to escape. But she had no intention of giving in easily. Not while she had breath left in her body.

Hitch stepped closer. "We need to teach her that we mean business."

After a quick, nervous glance around at the dark woods, he reached forward and closed his hand around the T-shirt strap that had fallen down her shoulder. With a single, violent jerk, he tore the strap in two. The T-shirt slipped down, exposing her bare flesh to the night air.

Beth sucked in her breath and flinched away from the rough groping of his calloused fingers on her naked breast. Reacting instinctively she planted her boot where it counted. Two more gifts from Daryl. Combat boots and valuable lessons in street fighting.

Praying for accurate aim, she kicked the shin of the man holding her and caught him unaware as well. The man released her so suddenly that she staggered forward. The ground was uneven and deeply rutted. She fell. Not all the way. She righted herself and balanced on one hand, quickly pushing herself back up to a standing position.

For a moment, as she faced the men, she stood wavering, uncertain and terrified as both men slowly recovered. Then she heard herself warning them in a voice that she barely recognized as her own. "Keep your hands off of me." Even though she was seething with raw emotion, she was amazed at how cool and deliberate her voice sounded.

Hitch's voice, was a broken whisper from between clenched teeth. He was still bent over. He was still holding his crotch with both hands. "We're . . . going to make you . . . pay for that . . . " His voice faded into a drawn-out groan.

But Beth didn't see herself as he apparently did, as a helpless victim. She backed away from both men, ready for the fight of her life.

"Don't just stand there, Hitch. Give me a hand with her."

As the other man made his move, she snatched up a thick piece of branch lying on the side of the road. She spun back around. As he closed in on her, she swung with all her might.

The blow took the man completely by surprise. She heard the branch connect solidly with the side of his head. It was a sickening sound that immediately made her wonder if she had killed him outright. She soon saw that wasn't the case. He staggered to the side, reeling drunkenly and dropping down on one knee. Howling in rage and in pain, he clapped his hand to his head and stared as his fingers came away dark with blood. Then he looked up, fixed her with a murderous glare and uttered a string of profanities and oaths that sent a new surge of terror through her.

Part of her registered the growls and the snarls right away. She was already on high alert as something materialized out of the shadows. She saw the blue-grey, rotting flesh of the thin arms that separated from the darkness and reached wildly for her. Walkers. More than one of them.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Beth and Daryl:**_

_**The Shadows and the Roses**_

**Chapter 5**

_**flashback**_

Beth heard Daryl's sigh in the darkness of the cabin. She brushed her hair back from her face, looked over the side of the sofa and watched him intently in the moonlight.

It wasn't like Daryl to be awake in the middle of the night, unless, of course, there was a good reason for it. He was lying on his back with one hand resting on his forehead, obviously about as far from sleep as she was.

"Are you worried about tomorrow?" she asked.

He was always worried, but no sense in letting her know that.

"I just want to make sure I've thought of everything." He had to give her _something _more than that, so he said, "I was thinking about what you said earlier. About going North. It could be different there. I'm just saying, it's something to think about."

"I'd like to think there was a place where this nightmare was over," she said. "Or nearly over. But I confess sometimes I think it's never going to end. Not in our lifetimes. I don't like the times when I feel like that because it's easy to get to the point where the only way to deal with it all is to shut everything down."

"Is that why you wanted to give up back at the farm?"

"There have been times when part of me feels so numb that it frightens me," she admitted. "And other times it just makes me feel sad. But to live without any emotions at all- I know that dark place and I don't want to drown in it again. Isn't that what a living death really is?" After a pause, she asked, "Do you think the walkers feel any emotions?"

"No. I think that part of them is dead, too."

"Then they deserve to be at peace."

"Ah, you mean as in rest in peace."

Her eyes, beautiful in their translucency even in the moonlight, were still steadily watching him. "Maybe," she said. "But I wish we didn't have to kill them."

"Sometimes there's no one else to do it but us," he said.

"It gets easier, doesn't it?"

"It never gets easier," he answered quietly. "You just shut your mind to it."

She thought about that. "I'm not as good at it as you are."

He didn't know if she meant the killing or shutting his mind down. He went for the easier answer. "You're about as handy with a knife as anyone I ever saw."

"Too handy?" she queried.

"No. You just do what has to be done. We all do."

"Sometimes I wonder if I contributed enough."

"You kept something alive in the group." In_ him, _he added silently_._

"Is that an actual compliment?" He heard the breathless quality in her voice. The surprise. "I'm speechless."

"That's good, because I was starting to worry that you were going to talk me to death. We need to get some sleep so we can get an early start."

She ignored his sarcasm and said, undaunted, "With any luck, we'll have good weather tomorrow. That will help. I don't like travelling in the rain."

"We've been lucky so far, but there is such a thing as crowding luck too hard."

His gaze shifted in the direction of the sofa. He caught a gleam of golden curls in the moonlight and a length of bare, shapely thigh that was not covered by her blanket.

Her hair was pulled to one side, and the blond curls were tumbling down over the side of her pillow. He caught a faint drift of strawberries. His gaze continued to wander helplessly over her womanly curves that, even under the blanket, were plain to see. He acknowledged that they were dangerous curves, at least to his peace of mind.

Even in the darkness, he felt her eyes on him, felt the intensity of that clear gaze. And even in the moonlight, he could have sworn that her gaze slid lingeringly over him. Which lured him like a drug into a place he didn't want to go. His reaction was immediate, if unwanted. Desire rocked through his body with an intensity that took him by surprise.

It was something that he had no control over. He knew that. And it was something he told himself he didn't want. Which wasn't strictly true. In fact, on some levels, it was an out and out lie. But, he consoled himself, maybe there was no harm in a little fantasizing as long as she never knew about it. It was just a healthy male reaction to a beautiful woman. In the middle of the night. When they were all alone.

Except it was going to get frustrating as hell because he had no intentions of acting on his fantasies. Not even remotely. He might be horny as hell but he wasn't completely without ethics.

How long had it been? Too long. Way too long. But that was no excuse.

It wasn't just the sex. There was something else. Something even more dangerous. Apparently he wasn't the cold, unfeeling bastard that she was constantly accusing him of being. He'd give anything to be just that at the moment. He had to make decisions that were not based on emotion. There was a heavy price to pay for mistakes. Even small ones could be instantly lethal. God knew that their very survival depended on his full concentration and his emotional detachment. Anything less than that could make him second guess himself, could make him think with his heart and not his head. Could get them both killed.

"You'll do things right, Daryl. You'll do things smart. You always do."

"I thought I was a knuckle-dragging neander- "

"I wouldn't be following you if I really thought that."

"Are you trying to say that you've decided to stop fighting me every step of the way?"

"To a point," she said cautiously, not understanding his mood. She could almost feel the tension between them and she didn't understand it. They'd had a good day together. At least she'd thought they had.

"I'll follow you and I'll trust you, but only to a certain point. I trust myself, too. Enough to let my own conscience guide me."

She had said that to him before and her words had led to a sobering realization for him, one that he was still trying to work through. Had he been like Carol, who had blindly followed a man rather than make her own decisions? Had he yielded up his very identity because he didn't trust his own conscience? Had he walked through life so far as a mere shadow of who he was supposed to be because he didn't even have a clue that it was possible to trust himself?

"Yeah, I know. You said that before. But it's late and I'd rather not hear it all again."

"You know what?" she flashed back. "Tough, silent guys might be OK in romance novels, but in real life they can really suck."

He stifled an oath. "Romance novels? That's good. But why doesn't that surprise me? If you're basing your opinion of me on romance novels, I gotta tell you, you're going to be disappointed."

After a huff or two, she remained a stiff shape in the darkness. But apparently she couldn't maintain her silence. "I'll tell you what is disappointing. Men that refuse to come out of the Dark Ages. Men that refuse to think that women are useful for anything beyond cooking, cleaning and- and- " She sputtered something he couldn't quite catch.

"And _what_?"

"And _what?"_ she echoed. "You fill in the blanks. I'm through talking about it."

Through talking about it? She might be through talking about it, but he wasn't through _thinking_ about it. What had she been about to say? The thought kind of intrigued him.

"I'm not discussing it any further."

"Suit yourself."

After a long silence, he heard, "Today was the best day I've had in a long time." There was a plaintive note in her voice now. She must have gotten her emotions under control.

He sighed inwardly. She knew how to get to him. She surely did. She knew how to diffuse his anger in an instant, knew how to make him forget why he was angry in the first place, knew how to turn him inside out with a word. Or a look.

"Thank you for everything," she said, ruthlessly tearing down his defenses even further. "All the little things may not have meant anything to you, but they meant something to me."

Lord, he thought, please don't let her cry. Because he'd already found out that he had no defenses against her tears after the incident with the dog.

"They'll _always_ mean something to me," she sniffed.

Damn Daryl, Beth thought to herself. It might still a dangerous, chaotic world out there, but this day had been a treasured moment in her life, something she would keep with her for as long as she lived, however long that might be. But even as she damned him, she realized another truth there in the darkness. She wanted to be closer to Daryl.

You didn't always have second chances in this world, so, without saying a word, she got down from the sofa and laid down on the floor next to him. It was a bold thing to do, but something was on the verge of spilling out of her, something vaguely forbidden, and yet it was something distinctly thrilling.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't want to sleep alone."

His reaction to her nearness, or perhaps to her words, was immediate. He threw his blankets back and sat up.

"What- " He sounded like he was strangling on something. "Are you doing?" he repeated.

"I'm doing what my heart is telling me to do," she said so softly that he could barely catch the words. It sounded like she was talking more to herself than to him.

"Your heart is telling you to sleep next to a jackass?"

"I told you. I don't really think that of you that way. Or- or the other things I said."

"Maybe you should."

She ignored his words and the anger behind them. "I don't want to sleep alone," she repeated simply. "I feel safer when I'm close to you. I guess you never talked half the night away at a slumber party and shared your deepest, darkest thoughts. This is like that."

No it wasn't. Not for him.

He made a low growl of protest deep in his throat. But he laid back down beside her, finding that he had no will to abandon her, not even emotionally. As he lay there unmoving, he caught a trace of strawberries and the perfumed sent of her skin.

"Blues," she said out of nowhere.

"What?"

"You asked me earlier what I would paint if I could. I would paint the sky," she said. "So I would need blues."

"Why . . . the sky?"

"Because it's the only place that's still untouched by all the bad things. All you have to do is look up and- " She was gathering up her blanket and snuggling so close to his shoulder that she was touching him.

To Daryl, the touch was like an electric shock sizzling through his body. "What difference does it make what you paint?" he burst out, fighting her, fighting what she did to him. "Or even what colors you use. You think any of that matters anymore? You think anyone is ever going to see what you paint?"

His anger was building again. Inexplicably. She felt the latent energy simmering just beneath the surface. She should be afraid of it, repelled by it, she knew. So why was she experiencing that strange undercurrent just below her own surface that ran deep, like an ocean current?

"I know you're upset for some reason. But please don't take it out on me. And please don't take today away from me. I just want one perfect day. I want to feel what it's like to be normal again."

"Nothing's normal and I don't know why you don't get that yet," he said, brutal in his honesty.

She rolled over onto her back, closer to her own lines, but staying there beside him. "I just didn't want today to end."

"Yeah, well, it's probably close to midnight right now, Cinderella. So technically it's about to end whether you want it to or not."

She felt her own anger mounting now. She didn't have to take this from him. She didn't deserve it. She rolled back over onto her side, her eyes narrowing with an accusing look that speared him even in the darkness. "So you're telling me you never wanted something you couldn't have?"

Her persistence was maddening. And her anger could be a dangerous thing. He got that instinctively. Without saying a word, he got up abruptly. He went to the window and stood with his hands on his hips, looking outside. The moon was out and it lit up the night with a silvery radiance. The stars were out, too. Millions of them were twinkling in the darkness.

He'd wanted to escape from the disruption she caused inside him, but she was relentless. She followed him to the window.

"The ravines keep it safer here," he said, trying to ignore her. "So do the fences. But I'll check things outside again to make sure there are no surprises while we're sleeping."

He stepped out onto the porch away from her and surveyed the moonlit landscape for a while. When he couldn't stall any longer, he went back inside.

She was still waiting silently, watching him from beneath her lashes while her arms were crossed over her chest.

"If you're not going to sleep on the couch, I'll sleep there," he informed her in a short, emotionless voice. "It'll be a hell of a lot softer than the floor."

"I don't want you to do that," he heard behind him. It brought him to a halt halfway across the room.

"What are you going to do? Stop me?"

"I might." Was that determination he heard in her voice? The woman was unbelievable.

"And just how are you going to do that?" he asked as he turned to face her.

"By asking you to please stay on the floor next to me."

She had no intention of making this any easier for him. Not by a long shot.

"What do you want, Beth?"

"I want to feel close to someone."

"And since it seems like I'm the last man on earth . . . " His voice trailed off with a resigned sigh, and maybe a hint of sadness.

"No, even if you weren't," she breathed quietly but very deliberately.

She stepped closer to him, wove her fingers with his. They had held hands before, but it had always been more of a comforting gesture. Right now, it felt like something else entirely.

"It isn't midnight yet," she said.

"This isn't right," he protested weakly.

"It feels right to me. And I'm not blind. I can't help but see the way you look at me sometimes."

"Then you've been misreading things. I'm not- attracted to you." But he didn't sound convincing. Even to himself.

"I thought we agreed we wouldn't lie to each other," she accused softly.

"I'm not. You're just wrong about this."

"I'll admit that you're probably a lot wiser than me about some things Daryl. But you're dumb about others."

"Not about this."

"Then you're a coward. You're afraid to admit that you have feelings for me."

"I'm not afr- "

"I know," she interrupted him, repeating what she'd heard from him before. On more than one occasion. "You're not afraid of anything. But the truth is, you _are_ terrified of feeling something for me, of being close to me. Because if you allow that, then if I am gone one day- "

He stepped forward so swiftly that he caught her unaware. She was immediately wrapped tightly in his arms. "Don't talk like that," he muttered against her hair. "Just don't."

At the very same moment that she had recovered and was letting herself lean into him, he released her abruptly and drew back again. He didn't say a word. He just stared down at her as she took a step closer to him and her hands crept up to his shoulders.

She shook her head. "Don't you know by now that we have to face whatever it is that we're afraid of?"

With a frustrated gesture, he raked the dark hair back from his face and shook his own head. "I don't want to think about that."

"When we face those things, when we allow ourselves to feel our emotions, the good _and_ the bad, we reach deeper into who we really are, who we were really meant to be. I have to believe those things still matter. To deny our feelings, to be afraid and give up and give in to the fear is death. I choose life. And sometimes that means taking risks."

"Maybe you haven't noticed, but every day we're on this earth is a risk."

"Yes," she agreed and nodded soberly. "And I'm willing to risk even more."

He knew then. She wasn't talking about walkers. Or bad men. She was talking about this thing between them. She had finally laid it out in the open for both of them to see.

He fought acknowledging it, even as he was aching for a release that he wanted so badly that for a terrible moment, it seemed stronger than his will to resist. And it wasn't just a physical release. It was more. So much more. He struggled to keep his walls in place and not let them coming tumbling down in a heap around him. Because- Because if that happened, could he put the walls back in place again? Or would it destroy him?

The witch was brutally persistent. She wasn't about to spare him. "You're afraid to even talk about it?"

He made another feeble attempt to keep her at a distance. "Damn it. I don't want you. You're not my type. I like a woman who knows what she's doing, who has experience."

"Well, I don't see too many of them around here at the moment." And then she just stood there, not saying anything, just waiting. Maybe for that honesty they had promised each other. But couldn't she see? He couldn't even giver her that. He'd always disappoint her.

Whether she meant it to be or not, he didn't know, but the lingering gaze beneath her lashes, suddenly seemed provocative and sensual. It sent a rush of need slamming straight through him.

Still, gathering all his will, he held back, poised at the edge of a precarious precipice, afraid of what the fall might do to him. No doubt she had some fairy-tale image of romance left over from childhood. A vision of a knight on a white horse who would come and rescue her. Couldn't she see-

"Even if you were the last man on earth . . . " she began again, letting her words trail off suggestively.

"I'd disappoint you," he finished for her.

"Shouldn't I be the one to decide that?"

She didn't wait for permission. Her hand began a lazy exploration of the hard, sculpted muscles of his chest. Then her palm slid down over his flat, washboard belly.

He sucked in a slow breath. Then he groaned deep in his throat. Just like a man who has just realized that he is hopelessly lost, and helplessly pinned in place like that pathetically- struggling moth. How much more was he supposed to take?

He must have made a heroic effort to reach deep inside for strength to free himself, because his will suddenly, and without warning, reasserted itself. His iron-like fingers closed around her hand, stopping any further exploration. "Stop," he said in a raspy voice.

She looked up to see that his jaw was clenched and that his eyes were tightly closed. He wasn't fooling her. He was trying to maintain control over the situation, but he was waging a losing battle and they both knew it.

"You really don't think about me this way?" she asked in a dangerously sultry voice. "Because I- "

He cut her off like his life depended on it. "You've misread- things. I don't feel the same way."

What he did next defied all rational thinking. He braced his hands on the wall behind her. Why he should do that, he had no idea. It brought him in even closer proximity to her sweetness. Madness beckoned. Reason fled.

Beth might be inexperienced but she instinctively knew the effect she was having on him. The knowledge that Daryl wanted her, in spite of his protests to the contrary, opened the floodgates of her own desire. Her untapped sexual appetite grew like a gathering storm. One that was about to swamp them both.

She felt his breath light as a feather on the sensitive side of her neck as he leaned closer. Without touching her, his breath warmed the line of her cheek to her chin. She tilted her head back, resting it against the wall, giving him better access. She reveled in the heady sensation of his mouth hovering so close to her. But still he held back for what seemed an eternity. Was he waiting for her to stop him? Was he hoping against all hope that she had more strength of will than he had?

Something changed. She felt his hand slide down the length of her back, slowly and seductively. His hand caressed the swell of her hip, then lingered possessively at the curve of her waist, while his thumb lightly stroked the sensitive flesh over her ribs.

"Is this what you wanted?" His voice was warm and husky and it sent arrows of heat shooting straight to her core.

"Yes," she breathed so softly that he wasn't sure she had even spoken.

"You're playing with fire, Beth," he warned, even as his mouth traced a slow and sensuous trail along her jaw, came close, so very close, to her parted lips. But he did not kiss her yet, even though his breath mingled with hers. He took her face between his hands, not ungently. He released a slow breath and shook his head, still fighting this thing between them, but it was his last stand.

He leaned his forehead against hers. Maybe he thought he could frighten her away when he said, "I don't think you know how hot I am."

"Then you should enlighten me," she whispered back, rising on her toes and reaching with her mouth to taste him, driving him to the edge of madness when she ran her tongue lightly across his mouth.

His eyes opened suddenly and he stared down at her in disbelief, his gaze growing more focused now and his breath coming much deeper.

He angled his dark head, hesitating only a moment longer. His gaze stayed locked with hers. And then there followed a passionate mating of mouths of want and hunger and incredible sweetness.

Beth lost herself willingly in the whirlwind of heat and fire that his kiss ignited in her. She was aware of every detail as the kisses went on and on. The feel of her breasts against his chest, the intoxicating taste of him. No one had ever made her feel the things she was feeling now. No one had ever come close.

And there was no holding Daryl back. Not now. His strong arm wrapped tightly about her waist, drawing her against him. As his kisses deepened, the exquisite sensations spread through her like wildfire, grew even more in intensity. She felt his arousal press against her. He wanted her. He couldn't hide that.

"Enlightened?" he rasped as he drew back for air. He held her captive with eyes so full of emotion that she felt she might drown in those dark and sultry depths.

Nothing had prepared her for this. Nothing she had ever imagined could be so thrilling or so consuming.

"There's- some protection in one of the bedroom drawers," Daryl panted, eager now and not bothering to hide it from her. "I saw it earlier. Let's be smart about this."

"OK, Daryl. But aside from that, don't think about being smart for the rest of the night."

As if they were both caught in the same moonlit spell, passion overtook them. But even the passion was tempered with a sweetness that took them both by surprise. For Daryl, it was a sweetness that he had never known before. It stole deep inside him, changing him, thawing a heart that had been cold for a long, long time.

They lost themselves and found themselves again among the stars. And discovered something they couldn't have anticipated. That there were still good things to find in a world that had lost its way.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Beth and Daryl:**_

_**The Shadows and the Roses**_

_**Chapter 6**_

Beth was gone, but that didn't mean he had stopped thinking about her. He had told her that if they were separated, he would look for her.

"I'll come back to you," he had promised.

He had done everything in his power to find her, but it hadn't been enough. He had failed her.

It ate at him day and night, not knowing if she was even alive. Worse yet was not knowing what she was going through right now. He couldn't dwell long on those thoughts. It disrupted him too much inside. He was prey to a kind of helplessness that he had never felt before. He fought it, knowing he had to get it under control no matter how impossible that might seem. Or it was going to destroy him.

Wherever Beth was, he hoped that she was in a better place. At least she was far away from this particular hell where they were caged up like animals, waiting for-

Heavily-burdened with the weight of his emotions and an uncertain future, he shook his head and continued doing as he had done for the entire morning. He kept it all hidden in a dark place inside him and tried to think of a way out of here.

But his thoughts had a tendency to return to Beth in spite of his attempts to stay focused on the here and now. He still saw her in his mind the way he would always see her. Down by the pond the morning after, her palms pressed together, her hair like a golden halo in the trembling light of dawn, the sun warming her upturned face.

She had looked up to see him standing there and she had smiled shyly. "We're like an island here," she had told him in a ghost of a voice. "I'm praying that we stay safe- out there."

She had looked down at her hands. "I suppose you never learned to pray." There was no criticism in her voice. No condemnation. Just a kind of sadness. "But sometimes prayer is all we have. Remember that, Daryl. Faith takes a different kind of strength. You can let faith lead you or you can give in to the darkness. I know as well as anyone that giving up can be easy to do because there is so much darkness around us, but don't do that, Daryl. Don't give up."

Faith _was_ hard to find in the present darkness. Almost impossible at times. He missed Beth. Like he had never missed anything in his life. He carried her in his heart. He always would. Until the day he died and her memory died with him.

Maybe they needed some prayer right now. All of them. He wanted to have the same faith that Beth had, but confronted by grim reality, how was that even remotely possible? He couldn't help but think of the connection between the things he'd seen in that barn to what he'd seen here in this place. Being caught in a nightmare world where he realized that both the living and the dead wanted the same thing from him was something he had not been prepared for.

Rick had said to him, "You know as well as I do what's going on here."

So he knew that Rick had figured it out, too. And he knew that they could face death, had faced it many times, but not like this.

They hadn't discussed it with the others. They hadn't put it all out there in the open. But he suspected they knew, too. They had all spent their time in captivity talking over several plans, but they hadn't come up with anything viable yet. Which had to change. They were running out of time. 

* * *

_The water looked deep. Dark. Forbidding._ Beth could see that the current was strong here. The sun was already down, leaving behind a blood-red stain on the horizon that was reflected on the water. Night was close. A tattered layer of mist drifted over the surface of the water and swept up the opposite bank, half obscuring the heavy, concealing brush that grew as far as the eye could see. Down behind and below her, half hidden by the trees and the vines that grew thickly here, was the chain link fence that enclosed Terminus. Not far from that was the river that bordered it.

The chances of finding Daryl, either alive or dead, were dwindling with each passing day. With each passing hour. She knew that. And knowing what she knew about Terminus, she didn't know if she wanted to find him here or not, but she didn't know where else to look. At the very least, she had to warn him if he was here.

The past weeks had worn her down, both physically and emotionally. In a weak moment, she almost yielded to her tears. "Where are you, Daryl?" she whispered. "I'm trying. I'm trying so hard to find you."

"Don't," she ordered herself, blinking hard and forcing back the tears. She couldn't let herself get lost in despair. Or fear. Or any other negative emotion. Then there really would be no hope. Remembering that she had warned Daryl about yielding to the darkness, she shoved her fears aside, and her uncertainties, and let a kind of grim determination settle deeply into the marrow of her bones. Until she had proof to the contrary, she would go on believing that he was still alive. She would go on having faith.

She crouched down in the brush, adjusting her battered body to try and ease the strain on her aching legs. Half of her body was a mass of bruises and she was exhausted. But she would continue to search for Daryl no matter what it took. She did not doubt that he would do the same for her.

She closed her eyes in the gathering dusk. She was assailed by a sudden wave of dizziness. Food entered her thoughts for the first time that day. She knew she needed nourishment if she was going to be able to keep herself going. The last actual meal she had eaten had been yesterday. She'd been able to find only a handful of berries today. But it kept her going. At least for now.

She had escaped from the men that had abducted her, and from the walkers, and she had surprised herself with her own savagery. She had used the car afterwards. After she had cleaned the bits of brain and the blood from the steering wheel. Hitch, like any true coward, had run at the first sight of the walkers. He had fully intended leaving her behind to fend for herself. But he hadn't counted on her getting hold of the other man's gun. Mercifully, for her sake as well as for his, it had taken only one shot to the head to kill Hitch while he futilely scrambled for his own gun. Luckily, she was just a little faster than he was. Pushing his limp body out of the vehicle had taken a little more effort.

She stared into the deepening shadows. Survival could make you do thing you wouldn't have thought possible. Things that would have been considered terrible in the old world. But this wasn't the old world any more.

After escaping from the two men, she had gone through even worse hardships. She shook her head as she thought over the past few weeks. She had been through so much. So much. But that was in the past now. What mattered was that she was here now, stronger in the knowledge that she had survived dangers she could not have imagined. She had learned a great deal and hopefully it would help her keep on surviving. Hopefully, t would help her find Daryl.

The signs that offered hope and salvation at Terminus were everywhere. But she knew they were a lure to draw unsuspecting people in. If Daryl was still alive, he might look for her here. He would be cautious. That would be like him. But he wouldn't know what she knew. And when he did know the truth, then it might be too late.

As she stared down at the sprawling complex that someone had decided to call Terminus, she thought about when she had first gone back to the funeral home to look for Daryl. She had been afraid of what she might find there, but there had been no signs of him anywhere. Even if the worst had happened, there would have been clothes left behind. And his crossbow was nowhere to be seen. The only answer was that Daryl was alive somewhere.

It was possible that he had been taken prisoner, too. She had gone back to look inside that barn after the other men there had driven away, but Daryl had not been there either.

Maybe he was looking for her, too. Right now. But maybe they were going in two completely opposite directions in their search. Maybe she would never see him again. It was her greatest fear, one that she didn't let herself face. Not just yet.

She shoved the damp hair back from her eyes. It was uncomfortable with her damp clothing clinging to her chilled body, but she couldn't do anything about that. The air was heavy with the scent of rain, wet leaves and damp earth. The rain had stopped falling about an hour ago though the trees still dripped with moisture all around her. But other than that, there were no sounds.

She sat quietly in the silence of the woods, listening, trying not to make any sounds herself. There were a few lights down below her, but most of the windows of Terminus were black voids.

_Think._

What was the best thing to do now? It had taken every bit of her nerve and her endurance to get this far by herself. But she knew she had to wait. She had to be smart and think her way through this before she made a move. It was hard to summon up patience. Especially when she was so close. But she forced herself to do just that. From a distance, Terminus looked peaceful enough. But she knew better. Its benign exterior covered something dark and sinister.

What _could_ she do by herself? She could fight with the ferocity of a tiger, maybe take them by surprise. Or she could be stealthy. Like a Ninja warrior. Whatever she decided, she would do her damndest to find out if Daryl was down there. Before it was too late.

_Do things smart. Do things right. Hope for the best but prepare for the worst._

All right, Daryl.

She would follow his advice and not act rashly. You couldn't go back and undo things. She already knew that wisdom kept you alive in this world. She had learned that lesson over and over again. The past could be a brutally unsparing teacher.

She bowed her head, suddenly awash in the unexpected resurgence of a sharp pain that never completely went away. You had to say good-bye to the dead and then walk away, but sometimes, out of nowhere, it all came back to haunt you and the pain was as sharp and as intense as it had ever been. She mourned the loss of so many and if she hadn't found a way to deal with the pain on some level, it would have crushed her into nothingness by now. She still had agonizing questions that had no answers. What had happened to all the others? To Maggie. To Judith- She closed her eyes tightly. Had she lost them, too? Just like she did with Daryl, she would keep hoping they were alive until she knew different.

The woods around her were painfully still. The atmosphere had grown heavy with the rising mist, almost oppressively so. She had seen nothing move for the past half hour or so. Not a walker. Not an animal. Not a guard. She seemed utterly alone in the world. It was as if there was no living being left alive, or dead, besides her. The weight of her aloneness bore down upon her. Had she gotten so used to Daryl's presence?

With every nerve and every sense straining, she leaned forward to catch the expected night sounds, but the silence was deep. There were no bird calls. No frogs. No insects. No rustling sounds of animals moving around in the brush. There was no wind. Nothing. It was like she was in a vacuum that had sucked all things animate out of the world.

She turned her head and tried to penetrate the darkness. A few leaves drifted slowly down around her, but nothing else moved. She was aware of the steady rise and fall of her breathing. She felt the pounding of her heart and the blood pulsing heavily through her veins. She was prey to a sudden, inexplicable sensation that something, or someone, was lurking in the shadows, watching her, was locked onto her scent and waiting for her to make some move before it pounced.

She didn't move. Years of desperate survival had honed her instincts to a razor-sharp edge. A tingling sensation crawled up her spine. She had developed a sixth sense over the past few years. It had saved her more than once in the past and she wasn't about to ignore it now.

She repositioned herself but stayed hidden. She almost held her breath waiting for something to happen and vaguely wondered with part of her mind if this was the way that hunted animals felt. But nothing happened. She re-focused and concentrated on one thing only. Saving Daryl. Darkness was here. It was time to go.

Pushing herself slowly forward, she cautiously threaded her way downhill through the heavy brush, coming to a stop at the edge of a clearing. Still keeping to the deeper shadows, and keeping her eye on Terminus, she took a step to the left and caught her foot in a trailing vine. She could not untangle herself fast enough and so she went down hard on her belly. Thorns deeply and painfully raked her legs, drawing blood.

She lay on her stomach for several long moments, sucking her breath between her teeth at the sharp pain, but she stayed frozen there. There was Terminus right before her, half in shadow and half gilded in the light of a full moon just now rising over the treetops. She narrowed her gaze. Like a predator now and not the hunted, she watched the narrow trail that led through the trees. She could scale that fence easily.

Be brave, she told herself. Stay strong.

Her attention was caught by the sound of a heavy door sliding open. There were a lot of boxcars within the fences of Terminus and she saw two armed guards standing before one of them. Her heart slammed into her chest when she saw Daryl standing in the open doorway of the boxcar. The two guards had their weapons trained on him.

One of the men motioned for Daryl to come forward through the open doorway to the outside. When Daryl stepped out onto the ramp, he must have hesitated. Beth winced as he was shoved forward so hard that he went to his knees on the ground. She watched intently, holding herself back as he struggled to get to his feet again. As soon as he was standing, one of the men jabbed Daryl hard in the back with his gun, forcing him to walk in front of them. The three men were soon lost in the darkness of Terminus.

Beth knew she had to make a move quickly. Maybe some of the others were still alive and were being kept here as well. If there were enough of them, if she could free them, they could fight. If-

Something rustled in the leaves behind her, catching her off guard and startling her so that she uttered an involuntary little cry. She spun around. As if her prayers had been answered, there in the moonlight was Tyrese. And Carol who was holding Judith in her arms.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Beth and Daryl:**_

_**The Shadows and the Roses**_

_**Chapter 7**_

Shoved hard between her shoulder blades, Beth went to her knees in the leaves and dirt. There were two men. The very look of them was like poison.

"Don't move," she heard one of them warn her in a low voice. "Don't make a sound or you're dead." He looked in the direction where Tyrese and Carol had disappeared in the woods. "And they're dead, too.

"You understand?" To make sure she understood, one of the men grabbed her pony tail and gave it a vicious jerk that brought tears to her eyes.

"What do we do with her?" the other man asked.

The man appeared to be considering her for a few moments. His answer came only after a long pause. "The usual."

He laughed coarsely. "Maybe after a little entertainment."

He grabbed her arm and dragged her roughly to her feet. He was staring down at Terminus so they didn't even see the small book that fell out of her pocket into the leaves.

"Move." Without another word, the brute began to steer her toward Terminus.

The heavy iron door slammed shut, cutting her off from the flickering torch light outside. When her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, she looked around. The place reeked of unwashed bodies, a faint chemical smell and something else. Fear, she realized.

She looked around at the half dozen shadows that shared her dark prison. She could barely see them and that alone inspired a greater sense of fear. None of the occupants of the boxcar said a word to her. Perhaps it was because none of them wanted to put their thoughts into words.

No one touched her or assaulted her in any way. The night dragged on with agonizing slowness and uncertainty. There was no comfortable place to lie down, so Beth endured a long, sleepless night not knowing what to expect.

She was leaning her head wearily against the boxcar wall when the explosion rocked Terminus. She scurried over to the door and tried looking out through the cracks where slivers of daylight were filtering in.

Something was happening outside. She heard gun shots. And people shouting. Dark forms moved past the box car, some of them within arm's reach. She heard snarls. Walkers, she realized.

Along with the other people, she started crying out. "Let us out." "Help us."

But no one came. She pounded impotently against the unyielding walls, crying out in her frustration. Was Daryl out there somewhere? He would help her if he knew she was here. So she kept yelling for help. She kept hoping.

It was pandemonium out there. Shadows kept passing through the light outside. People were yelling and guns kept going off. Single shots. Automatic weapons. And people started screaming. Just like they had done when the prison had been overrun.

"Daryl," she whispered as she stared at the closed door. "Where are you?"

* * *

_Daryl's happiness at seeing Carol_ was immediate and spontaneous. His relief at finding her alive was like finding a part of himself again. He had never liked Rick's decision to leave her on her own. To abandon her. To practically sign her death warrant. They had all made decisions that maybe they wished they could undo. Rick included. Daryl fully admitted that he was guilty of that, too, just like everyone else was.

But his joy was overshadowed at not seeing Beth among the survivors. Her absence was glaringly obvious to him. He still believed she was alive. He refused to believed-

He frowned suddenly when he saw something lying half buried in the leaves. He walked over to it and picked it up while a terrible sense of dread washed over him. He had an awful moment of regret when he realized they should have let all the people out of those boxcars. They should have made sure. His hand gripped the small journal so tightly that it shook.

* * *

_Author's notes: This is just a short chapter to let people know I have not abandon the story. In the meantime if anyone is interested, I have written another zombie book on Amazon called "Blood Storm: DeadRise II" and will have a link up for it in a few days on my profile page. Just click my name._


	8. Chapter 8

_**Beth and Daryl:**_

_**The Shadows and the Roses**_

**_Chapter 8_**

Daryl stripped down and stepped off the porch into the pouring rain. He lathered his body and hair and let the driving rain rinse the soap away along with the layers of dirt and blood. He repeated the lathering. And when the soap was gone, he repeated it again. And again.

He tilted his head far back and stared up at the rain-slashed darkness. There were no stars. No moon. There was nothing to relieve the empty darkness. He wanted to be clean. He wanted to wash away all the bad things of the past. Of course he couldn't do that. There was no way to undo it all. It stayed a part of who he was, reminding him that there was no forgetting.

Still, she had believed in him. There was no forgetting that, either. That belief kept him going.

He stepped back up onto the porch and shoved his wet hair back from his face. No hurry to put the clean change of clothes on. There was no one to see his nakedness. There was no Beth.

When his body was dry enough, he pulled on the new pair of jeans. He zipped up the front but left the button undone and stood there bare-chested. Suddenly he bowed his head and pounded his fist repeatedly against one of the porch posts and ground out an oath. "Dammit. Where is she?"

He felt raw inside. Hollow. Lost without her. There was no one to listen to his anger. His fears. His frustration. And so he cried his rage to the heavens and when he was spent, he rested both his forearm and his forehead against the post. He stayed that way for the space of several minutes till a shudder racked his half-naked body. Slowly, he straightened and drew a deep breath.

His loneliness was impressed upon him, too, as he stood there. Beth was the embodiment of all the good things he had secretly wished for in the past, the very things he had been forced to keep hidden. When she had come into his life, it was like a door had been opened and he couldn't get it closed again. Much as he _should_ want it, he didn't want that door to close. Ever. 

* * *

The heavy metal door of the box car slid open and daylight blinded her. Beth blinked against the harsh glare of sunlight that suddenly flooded the dark prison she had been confined in.

"Well, well," she heard. "What do we have here?"

She had fought tooth and nail against men like these. More than once. She already knew she was no match against their strength.

"I told you they'd leave something valuable behind," one of the men laughed coarsely as she was brutally handed from one form of captivity to another. 

* * *

Daryl stopped and turned slowly.

"What did you say?"

Rick's look was almost challenging. "I said, it's time to go."

"I'm not going with you."

"You don't want to make that decision."

Something dark flickered in Daryl's eyes for a moment. "Don't tell me what I want to do."

That surprised Rick. He hadn't been expecting it from him.

"Look, I know how you feel- " Rick began.

"Then this shouldn't come as any surprise to you."

"She's gone, Daryl."

"What the hell does _gone_ even mean?" he almost spat. "That she's dead? That she's one of those things out there? Or that she's going through some kind of hell right now that I don't even know about?"

Rick didn't have an immediate answer for him. He turned his face to the side and stared into the woods for several long moments. He looked back at Daryl and tried reasoning with him again. "We can't risk everyone else just for the unlikely chance that- "

"Don't say it," Daryl warned. His words had been forced out from behind his clenched teeth. His hands were equally clenched.

"You know this is what we have to do."

"And why is that?" Daryl's chin thrust slightly forward. "Because it's what _you_ decided? Do you know how many people your decisions have killed? Let's see, there was that kid back at the farm. The guy with the orange backpack begged us for help, and you wouldn't stop. And- Hell, there are too many of them to count. Well, Beth's not going to be added to the list."

"I know you're frustrated," Rick tried again in a softly-persuasive tone.

"Frustrated? No, I'm way beyond that." He slanted a dark look in Rick's direction. "She was there, Rick. She wasn't twenty feet away from us. All we had to do was to open those doors and free those people. She would be safe. She would be here with us right now. We heard people crying for help. We must have heard _her_ crying for help without realizing it. And we didn't do a damned thing about it. It's as much my fault as it is yours for ignoring those cries. No matter who those people were."

"You really think you're going to find her now? Do you know the chances of that happening?"

Daryl shook his head as he studied Rick with an unwavering gaze. "See, that's the thing I don't get. You expect me to just forget her and go off without giving her another thought. Would you have done the same with Lori?

"All this time I thought I had to be strong for you. I thought I had to be the one who took care of the dirty work because I was used to that kind of thing. I played that role before. But I don't want to do that anymore. Because it's all bull about me thinking I wasn't good enough to do anything different. It's bull about me thinking I deserved all the shit work."

He slid down beside the porch post till he was sitting on the wooden steps. His head was bent forward and his hands were hanging between his knees. "I'm through being that person."

"She's gone, Daryl," Rick repeated. "Sometimes we have to accept- "

"No," Daryl breathed. He lifted his head and watched Rick through narrowed eyes. "I don't have to believe that just because it's convenient for you. I can't follow you blindly anymore, because here's what I see. You grow more and more like the governor every day. It's all about you, Rick. And what you want. You've lost your humanity somewhere along the way. Killing people that need killing, well, that's one thing. I can accept that in this world. But I've seen the blood lust in your eyes too many times. You can't stop yourself once you get started. You lost it back at the prison for a while after Lori died. Maybe that's when it all started. I don't know. But if you keep going the way you're going, you will be just another version of the governor. Human life won't mean a damned thing to you.

"I want to think I'm better than that," Daryl went on. "There's always been a reason _not_ to do the right thing. Even before all this started. And sometimes doing what's right isn't the easiest choice to make. But I want to think I'm something more than just a mindless walker who goes around tearing other people apart because they don't have the brains to do anything different. If we don't keep part of who we used to be, or who we _wanted_ to be," he pounded his closed fist once against his chest. "Then what are we, Rick?"

Rick didn't answer him. Daryl knew from past experience that Rick wouldn't budge from the decision he had already made. He wouldn't even consider a compromise. He wouldn't listen to anyone else's opinion. He wouldn't allow any other member of the group to have a say. He would stubbornly stick to his decision, right or wrong, no matter what the consequences.

Daryl closed his eyes and shook his head. "No, I'm going to believe she's still alive because I _can_ believe it. I've changed. _She's_ changed me."

"So you'll do what? Spend the next year looking for her? Or the next _two_ years?"

"If that's what it takes," Daryl replied quietly.

"Well, I think that's the wrong decision."

"You would know, Rick, about wrong decisions. You've made enough of them."


End file.
